


Ink

by PleasantlyWeird



Category: Tom Hardy - Fandom
Genre: Child Abuse, F/M, Fallen Angels, Other
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-22
Updated: 2015-07-24
Packaged: 2018-04-10 17:52:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,914
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4401569
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PleasantlyWeird/pseuds/PleasantlyWeird
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Carly is a forgotten child, invisible to everyone except her abusive stepfather. It seems that someone or something else has taken notice of her, something that moves in shadows and near silence with just a hint of ruffling feathers. This story will follow Carly from childhood through adulthood. Tom Hardy is the face claim for Arioch.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Fending Him Off

**Author's Note:**

  * For [All the people who read me and give me the encouragement I need.](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=All+the+people+who+read+me+and+give+me+the+encouragement+I+need.).



Even though the footsteps were retreating instead of approaching, my heart rate didn’t slow even slightly. The pain was something that I didn’t think that I would ever get used to. Every encounter with my stepfather meant that he would push for more. He wasn’t happy with mere fondling now and his recent trips to my bed late at night had led to him trying to take my innocence with a terrible finality. I knew that his restraint wouldn’t hold much longer; I felt in my heart that soon my begging eyes peering from behind his silencing hand wouldn’t be enough to turn him away. Mine was a pain not meant for anyone, let alone someone who had been in this world for a mere twelve years.

I slowly poked my head from under the blanket; my mouth set in a painful downturn. My hands nervously went to my waist length brown hair and twirled it between shaking fingers. I fought the urge to chew on it, I knew that my mother would notice and scold me for it. Her only source of pride in me was my long brown curtain of hair that had never been cut.

I had no one to turn to, no one to plead to for help. My mother spent most of her days in a haze of drugs and alcohol, too stoned to realize or care what was being done to her little girl. The teachers at school looked right through me as if I were barely there as did my classmates. I was cut off from the rest of the world otherwise; there was no one else in my life.

Night after night as the footsteps came towards my bed I tried to curl in on myself, tried to make my body so small that he wouldn’t be able to find me in the sheets that reeked of his cheap cologne and my tears. No matter how hard I tried his grasping hands always found me.

The Stepfather hadn’t always been so horrible. I remembered a time of innocent hugs and kisses that I had welcomed. I could recall when I felt like he had been an answered prayer. My real dad had been a raging, abusive alcoholic who had beaten me and my mom on a regular basis. I remembered the Stepfather had been a friend of his and I would never forget the day that the Stepfather had stayed my dad’s upraised hand and had spared me the coming blow. He’d been my hero then and for a few years afterwards. I was there the day that my mother had married him in a rushed courthouse ceremony. I’d felt in my heart that things were finally going to be okay; I couldn’t have been more wrong.

Things had gone real bad after my mom had the miscarriage. She’d started drinking and taking some pills that the doctor gave her for her sadness. Slowly I had felt her slip away from this reality into one that was less painful for her. She had stopped crying at least; honestly she’d stopped doing much of anything at all except sleeping.

It really was just a comfort thing in the beginning. We’d held each other and grieved for the loss of someone that we both loved. He had showed me the attention that I craved, that I had lost when my mother mentally checked out. I had constantly sought his company and he’d never denied me. He had filled my childish emotional void and I’d been terrified that somehow he would slip away from me too. I don’t recall the exact instance when the hugs started to feel sinister and the kisses lingered a little too closely to my mouth. It was almost like slowly waking up and realizing that I was in a dangerous place. In the beginning I’d tolerated my discomfort because I was so afraid of losing him. I had been very aware of just how alone I would be without him and so even though my trust was beginning to wane, I’d still clung to him like I was drowning.

The first night he’d come to my room I had smelled him before I’d seen him. The stench of alcohol had woken me up as he’d sat heavily on the edge of my bed.

“Hey kiddo,” he’d said and I’d shrank from the smell of his breath.

“Hi Danny,” I’d managed to squeak out.

“You know I love you don’t you?”

“Yes.” I had felt something bad coming but had felt powerless to stop it. “I love you too.”

“If you loved me you’d give me a kiss.”

“I’m really sleepy…” I’d had time to whisper before he’d leaned down and stuck his tongue in my mouth.

I’d been so shocked that it had taken me too long to pull away. I guess he’d seen that as an invitation and he’d grabbed my hand and put it somewhere bad. I had tried to scramble off of the bed, to get away, but that had only made him mad. He’d drawn back his hand the same way my father used to and had struck me dumb. It had taken the fight right out of me and I had lain there and cried as he’d subjected me to all kinds of horrors. My hero had become the proverbial devil in the form of a man.

The next day after the Stepfather had gone to work I had gone to my mother’s bed crying.

“Momma, please help me. Danny did something bad, he made me do something bad,” I had sobbed.

“What the hell are you talking about?” Mother had mumbled through her pillow.

“He gave me a bad touch momma!”

I’d watched as she’d lifted the pillow from her face. I’d expected to see a look of sympathy but what I had gotten was a look of hatred and contempt.

“You know what I think Carly? I think you watch too much fucking television.”

And with that she had placed the pillow back on her face and rolled on her side away from me. My mind had been in a frenzy of shame and self-loathing. Had I asked for this? Had I made the Stepfather think that I wanted him to touch me the way he used to touch my momma? Somehow this was my fault, I’d reasoned and I’d vowed to make things right. But the next night had brought more of the same and I’d known in my heart that something evil had taken him over. He’d ceased being my Danny, my hero and became the Stepfather.

The bad things happened several times a week. Sometimes the footsteps would bypass my door and head to another part of the house and the relief I would feel was almost suffocating. I had little to be thankful for generally and nothing to be glad about tonight. He’d been rough and had cursed at me when he’d had to pry the pillow from my grasp. I could still smell the stale whisky in the air, I still felt his rough hands grasping and pinching…

I closed my eyes, squeezing them shut hard to try and keep the tears from coming. These were tears of not only sadness and pain but also relief. Slowly I began to mouth the same mantra that I always did after his visits, the one where I begged God to take me far away from his reach, to save me from what the Stepfather surely had planned for me. I was terrified that the next time I saw his shadow in the doorway it would be too late and he would push that final boundary and force himself inside of me. I inherently knew that I would never be able to come back from that.

Tonight my prayer took on a fevered pitch and I added something that I had never asked for before.

_“Take me away from here. Please take me away from here. God, please send me a protector, someone to kick that monsters ass when he comes to my bed. Please send me someone to save me. Take me away from here.”_

As the darkness began to fade with the rising of the sun and the flow of hot tears dried up I felt safe and my eyes began to close. I knew that I had precious little time to sleep before school. I never wanted to miss school even though I was invisible there. At least I got two meals there and invisibility was better than being in the Stepfathers view.

Just before sleep took me I was imagined that I heard the rustling of something feathered, smelled something that hinted of the foreign and exotic. I could have sworn I caught a whisper and felt warm breath on my forehead. Spoken were comforting words in an accent I couldn’t place that slowed my thrumming heartbeat and gave me peace.

_“Rest and be at peace, you are mine to protect now.”_


	2. Inky Black

 

“Goddammit Carly, just get in the fucking car! I’m too tired to watch you so go to the store with Danny,” my mother yelled after I begged her to let me stay. He wasn’t going to the store, not at first anyway. He wanted to take me to the shack and I would do anything not to go there.

I knew that begging was no use once I heard the tone of her voice. There would be no concession, she was high as a kite and I was headed for trouble if I kept pleading.

The shack was an old building on the Stepfathers parents land. He’d only taken me there once and that was long before the bad things had started happening. I only knew he was taking me there because I’d heard him call his father the night before to make sure no one else was using it. I would be in the middle of wooded acres where no one would be able to hear me scream. All the barriers that had kept him from raping me outright would be gone. There would be no nosy neighbors to hear me cry and no drugged out mother who just might walk in on him violating me. I had to figure out a way to stay home.

My nerves were my savior as my stomach gave up the dry toast I had eaten for breakfast.

“Jesus H.! Like I really needed a fucking puke mess to clean up. Get in the shower dammit!” Momma was howling mad and I knew enough to run when she went dog-whistle. “Danny, she ain’t going anywhere right now. Just go get my pills and be quick about it!”

I peered around the corner of the bathroom door and saw the Stepfather looking directly at me from the front doorway. Rage was painted all over his face like a gory Halloween mask. He turned on his heels and the screen door slammed. I jumped like I’d been shot. This was just a temporary reprieve, things would be much worse for me later.

I closed the bathroom door and started to peel the vomit soaked clothes off as the filthy bathtub filled with water. I decided that I would probably be dirtier afterwards with a bath so I decided a shower was a better idea. This bathroom really spooked me and had since we’d moved in. I knew that a woman had drowned in this very bathtub. I’d overheard momma and the Stepfather talking about it. I tried not to imagine the dead woman’s face as I took the rest of my clothes off. Yeah, I knew what she’d looked like because she’d had a son in my fourth grade class. She’d always brought cookies and other treats to class on Fridays. I had secretly envied Scottie Webb every time his mother had come to our little class. Miss Roxie, as we had all called her, had been everything my mother was not. Attentive, loving, all there mentally…

I shrugged and shivered, shaking off the ghost of her memory. As I pulled the shower stopper up I got the distinct feeling of being watched. My heart jumped to my throat as I mentally pictured the Stepfather standing behind me with his horrible thing poking out of his pants. I whirled around, grasping my soiled shirt like a weapon. A blur of black and the sound of feathers beating at the air assaulted my senses of sight and sound. And then instantly it was gone.

I dropped to my knees, gasping for air and not trusting in what I thought I had seen. What was it? Had it really been there?

The hot water ran out before I was able to stand and have my shower. The cold water was sobering and sharpened my senses. I decided that the stressful knowledge of what the Stepfather surely had in store for me later on was the cause of my hallucination.

_It had wings._

My hallucination had wings. I couldn’t get that thought out of my head as I turned the water off and slowly peeked from behind the shower curtain.

“Don’t be such a dork,” I said out loud to myself, reaching out for my towel.

Of course there was nothing out there, there was never was. It was a figment of my imagination; just something else to terrorize me, as if the Stepfather didn’t do enough of that.

As I stepped out of the shower I used my trembling hand to wipe the bathroom mirror clean of steam. My brown eyes looked alien in the reflection, too large, too wise for my age. I willed them not to fill up with tears as anxiety wracked my body with sharp, stabbing pains.

I wrapped my towel around my shivering body since I hadn’t brought clean clothes into the bathroom with me. This was dangerous; if the Stepfather was home I didn’t want him to see me like this. He would sneer at me and try to come into my room to watch me get dressed. I opened the door slightly and looked out. It didn’t seem like he was back yet but I still ran to my room and slammed the door behind me. Fat lot of good that would do me, the Stepfather had disabled the lock after the first time I had shut him out. Still, I felt better with the solid wood of it between me and the rest of the house.

I dressed quickly and draped my towel over the bedpost. I sat down on my sagging mattress and fought to hold back the tears. I knew he would come to my door tonight and he would take the last of me regardless. I was too small and too weak to stop him.

I could run away, I thought, but where would I go? Where could I hide that he wouldn’t find me? I lived in a small town and everyone knew Danny Clevenger, everyone knew I was his “darling” step daughter who he took care of because her mother was a bed-ridden drug addict. It wouldn’t take long for phones to start ringing. I would just be making things harder on myself.

I heard the front door slam, signaling the return of the monster. I opened my window and slipped out as quietly as I could. I ran for the barbed wire fence that separated our back yard from the cemetery. I had a secret place beyond the acre of bones and stone tributes that gave me a safe place to think. As I slid through the gap in the top and middle line of barbed metal my heart was pounding a terrified rhythm. My legs carried me over and around monuments and soon my lungs were burning. I’d been holding my breath as I ran for the safety of my boulder hideaway.

I slowed as soon as I knew I was out of sight of the fence. I was pretty sure I had made a clean get-away. I sighed as the expanse of large rocks came into view. They had piled them here after having to do some blasting to make room for more graves. I liked to pretend that each nook was a different room of my palace and I was the princess. My father was a noble man who loved me and protected me and as King no one would ever dare defy him. I could never imagine a Queen; I didn’t like the image of my mother that popped into my head whenever I tried. She was always the same as she was in real life and there was no place for her brand of hatred here in my pretend.

I crawled slowly through a tight tunnel and made my way to my Chapel. There was a flat stone in this room that I used as an altar. Here I prayed to a deaf God, begging Him to please make this my reality, to take me from the horrors of my real life. Sometimes I had even prayed that He let me die instead of forcing me to live one more day of this life. Even though none of my prayers had ever been answered, it hadn’t stopped me from repeating them every chance I got.

As I knelt on the rough surface of the altar rock, I smelled the honeysuckle that grew wild all around my fortress. Mixed in with the sweet smell of the flowers was the earthy scent of the red clay that the boulders rested upon. I was in my safe place now; I was okay for the time being. But I knew I couldn’t stay long because the Stepfather would come looking for me soon. It would kill me if he were to find my sanctuary, if he were to sully it with his presence. Imagining him here was almost enough to make it seem sinister instead of comforting.

I bowed my head and started to recite my prayer out loud. I jerked when a very soft and distinct voice whispered in my ear.

_“Fear not beloved. You are safe.”_

The voice might have been soft in its sound but the words were said with vehemence. I stood and looked around, trying to find out who had breached my safe place but saw no one.

“Let me see you!” I cried out loud, feeling insane as I did.

“ _You are safe.”_

I felt a whoosh of air pass by my body, strong enough to whip my long brown hair up and around my face like a dirty halo and then all was calm. I felt what I can only describe as a loss and I knew I was alone again.

I felt unreal; this must be what it felt like when you slipped into insanity like momma had. I was talking to myself inside my make believe palace where I was a pretend princess. I suddenly felt pathetic, my sanctuary felt sad instead of safe now. Who was I kidding? I would never be a princess, I would never be safe.

I felt the weight of the universe on my shoulders as I crawled back through the tunnel and out into the open field. I had been out here longer than I had thought; the sounds of early evening swarmed my ears as I looked at the dimming sky. My legs were heavy as was my heart as I headed back up the slope of the graveyard towards my personal hell.

As I slowly slid back into my window I saw that my mattress had been flipped, probably in a fit of rage. This was not good at all, he was always angry when he didn’t have instant access to what he wanted. As I started to put everything back to rights I saw something floating on the wafts of air I’d created by fanning the blanket. I reached my palm out and watched as the inky black feather landed softly in my palm.


	3. Close Your Eyes, Child

I lay in bed that night, my fingers running over the black feather as if it were some charm made to keep the inevitable from happening. I jerked slightly from a faint whisper from above my head in the dark spaces I couldn’t see. It was the same voice, the same unfamiliar lilt.

_“There are places inside where you can escape. Places he can’t touch. Places he can’t find you.”_

          I never answered It back but simply took the suggestion and sought inner refuge. It was right, the evil bastard didn’t have access to what was the essential me, what was my soul. It made me realize that while I couldn’t do much to control what was happening to me physically, I had a responsibility to the person I was destined to become to protect my mind, and my heart. I could not allow the monster to sully what was most important. He might be able to scar my body but my soul must remain intact.

Worry is like a burning stone in my stomach and I whimper a little as the pain of knowing what is coming makes me turn onto my side and curl my body into a ball. I hear the footsteps approach my door. I hear the wooden door groan as the stepfather pushed on it. I steady my breathing and climb further inward to escape. But I don’t hear the familiar squeak of the door, poorly hung, making its way open into my room.

“Carly, you better open this fuckin’ door. All your doin’ is making me mad. It could be so gentle if you stop fighting me on it. I bet I’d even get you to like it…”

The stepfathers words make me feel sicker and then it occurs to me that he can’t open the door. I open my eyes and turn my head towards the door and see black feathers, the absence of color. A movement draws my gaze further up and I see the side of a man’s face.

“Close your eyes, child.”

I do as the voice says and squeeze my eyes shut. The door doesn’t open that night, even though the stepfather beats on it relentlessly. It takes nearly an hour for him to admit defeat and he walks away, threatening that he isn’t going to make it gentle at all when he finally gets ahold of me. I hear the rustling of my protector’s feathers and then warmth spreads all over my body like a blanket as he nears the bed.

He first speaks in a language my ears can’t understand but then follow it with a translation.

“Rest, you are safe.”

The next morning I wake and sit up so quickly my head spins. I look around the room for evidence that last night was real. The first thing I notice is two large, very distinct handprints that have been seared into the wood of the door. My gaze drifts down to the floor and there is one black feather lying beside the door frame. I quickly pick it up and put it under my pillow with the first one.

Breathing isn’t easy but I try my best not to hyperventilate as I slowly open the door and peer down the hallway. I make my way to the tiny living room that only holds a ragged recliner, an end table filled with dirty ashtrays, and a black and white television. I peer out the front window to see if the stepfather’s car is there and cry softly when I see it is not. He must have been called to work today and the relief is overwhelming.

I walk quietly down the hall to my mother’s room and peer inside. She’s awake, her gray face stares lifelessly at the ceiling and for a brief moment I think she may be dead. I am afraid to approach the bed but suddenly she exhales loudly and curses at me.

“What the hell do you need Shelby? Can’t I get a moments peace?”

“Momma, I’m Carly,” I say gently. Shelby was the name she’d picked out for my lost sibling had it been a girl.

“Whoever the fuck you are, what do you need?”

“I was just checking to see if you need anything,” I say in a near-whisper, “Some water or anything?”

Momma sneers at me and mocks my voice with her reply, “I don’t know Carly, do you have any Quaaludes or some weed?”

I don’t say anything else but turn to go.

“Wait,” she snaps, “I got something to tell you.”

I turn and brace myself against the door frame. This can’t be good.

“Your granny and papaw are coming down from Michigan to pick you up and keep you for the summer. You need to get your shit together, just put it all in a garbage bag. They’ll be here in the morning.”

My heart races,. I don’t know these people! They’re my mother’s parents and all I remember about them is getting a huge stocking full of candy from them one Christmas when I was very small. What if Momma gets sick and needs help but I’m not here? What if Danny turns his anger on her and hurts her in my stead? I feel bile rising in my throat but I know better than to throw up in front of Momma. I’ve had my face shoved into the mess more than once as if I were some animal that needed to be trained. I start to protest, hoping to let her know that I want to stay with her. Maybe if she see’s how hard I’m trying to be a good girl and to protect her she’ll love me. Her words cut into my thoughts as she coughs, trying to clear her throat.

“Something else I wanna warn you about,” She sits up and lights a Newport Menthol before continuing. The smell is pungent and my lungs begin to burn as she blows the smoke right in my face. “Don’t you going telling them all that shit about your daddy molesting you. You hear me? The police will come and put you in prison!”

I merely nod, and turn to go. “He’s not my daddy,” I whisper as I walk away.

Maybe it would be for the best that I leave for a while, that way maybe Momma can see all I do to try and help her once I am not here to do it. I really love her; even though she treats me like I’m a burden now, I remember happier times, before the miscarriage, even before Danny Clevenger came into our lives.

Momma used to smile so wide it looked as if her face couldn’t contain it. Her laughter was like musical notes that floated from her mouth to my ear and tickled all the way down to my ear drum. She used to hug me close and call me her little lady bug. She used to make clothes for me and then make the same design for my baby doll. But there are no smiles or hugs now, no baby dolls, and the clothes I wear now are worn to the threads long before they make it to me.

Something broke inside Momma and I think even died when she lost the baby. The old Momma was just a ghost now and what I have left of her is a shell. I can’t spare the tears to mourn her and it makes me feel more than a little guilty and a lot hopeless that she is probably never coming back.

But right now all I can think about is my guardian, if that’s what it/he is. He saved me last night and I worry that if I am to be away in Michigan all summer, maybe he will forget about me and not be here when I come home. I feel an odd sadness at thinking he would leave. How do I know he’s even a good… thing? What if he’s only saving me from the Stepfather so he ruin me instead? The thought makes my stomach hurt and I know it’s hunger gnawing at me. How long has it been since I’ve eaten? I honestly don’t know. I turn and head for the kitchen and open cabinet doors to find what I suspected; nothing at all. The fridge holds only beer and a plastic container that seems to be growing an alien life form inside.

I know Momma will be furious at me if she catches me but I slide out the front door and walk quickly two houses down to Stella’s house. She opens the door as soon as I hit the first step and smiles at me.

“Well, little miss Carly, how you doing today?” She reaches to ruffle my hair and I whimper when he fingers brush roughly over a bruise.

“What happened to you?” He face turns from sunny to stormy quickly and I shrug and lower my eyes to her ancient wooden porch.

“I dunno,” I say and shrug my shoulders. I know I can’t tell her because she would be on the stepfather like a hen on a June bug. And Momma would be mad at me.

“Yeah,” she snorts, “ I bet you know exactly what happened. And I know you ain’t tellin’. But I can’t figure out why you want to protect that man. He’s evil.”

Before I can stop myself I blurt out, “I ain’t protecting him; I’m protecting Momma!”

I feel tears, hot and salty, running down my chin. I know I’ve screwed up now and I turn to go but I feel Stella’s warm hands on my shoulders and she pulls me to her, letting me cry on her apron.

“Come on inside Carly. I’m making some pot roast and beer bread for the church picnic and I sure could use someone to try them for me. Don’t wanna take something bad to the Sisters. God knows they judge everything.”

Her house smells wonderful as I step inside. Her home is small but spotless. Stella takes pride in being so clean and also for being somewhat of a spinster. Her high school sweetheart, Lanny Mantooth, had been the only man for her and she’d lost him to some foreign war that she never really specified. I was never sure how old Stella really was. She had a young face but all the pictures on her walls were black and white. No Polaroids like the Stepfather uses sometimes to try and catch me naked in the bathroom.

Being alone and surviving as a single woman makes the gossip about her outrageous. Some people whisper that she’s a witch and that girls in trouble, like pregnant trouble, go to her and she gets rid of the babies before anyone but the mother knows about them. Some people say that she’s a medicine woman who people go to for home remedies, mountain medicine as it is. Some people, like my mother, say that she doesn’t have a man because she likes to lay with other women. And I think “lay with” means something more than just taking a nap together judging by the look on my mother’s face when she talks about it.

Stella has always been kind to me. Last summer when I got stung a whole bunch by yellow jackets she knew what to mix together so that it took the sting out. So I tend to believe the theory that she’s a mountain magic woman. With that determination I feel ok to talk to her about **_Him_** as she’s piling a plate high with pot roast and veggies.

“Stella, can I ask you a question and have it not go further than us?” My voice shakes as I look up at her, wondering what expression I’ll see. When I see her smile I know she’ll keep it between us.

“Of course, sugar.”

She sets the plate in front of me and slaps a big square of cornbread on a paper towel next to it. As much as I want to plant my face in the middle of all this I hold back, wanting to get the question out.”

“What looks like a human but has big black feathered wings?”

Once the question is out I feel totally ignorant and wish I hadn’t said anything, sure that she’s about to call me silly or tell me to knock it off with this silliness. Instead she answers me, “Well child I ain’t sure but lets see if we can find out.

As she turns to her shelves full of what I always assumed were cookbooks, I pull the two black feathers out of my pocket and lay them on the table. I slide them under the cornbread until I am sure she’s taking me seriously.

Turning back to the table she sits across from me and says, “You eat up while I look.”

I smile and dig in as my stomach rumbles loudly. The food is heaven and I eat slowly so I can relish every bite.

After turning a few pages she says, “Hmmm.”

Looking a little closer at the book I realize that its handwritten. She catches my gaze and says, “This was my great granny’s grimoire.” She learned everything in here from her mother and wrote it down. It’s got remedies you can make for anything that ill’s you. There’s only a small section on legends in here but what it does say is that Black winged beings typically are fallen angels.”

“But wouldn’t that mean that he’s bad? What if he was trying to help me, that would make it impossible for him to be evil.”

“Girl, it’s just a vision in a dream…”

I slide my hand under the cornbread and pull the two large feathers out.

“It wasn’t a dream, I’ve seen him.”


	4. The Fallen

Stella stares at the feathers for a few minutes before taking them from my hands. My heart races and I involuntarily whimper as she holds them up to the light. They are the only physical link I have to him and the only thing that keeps me from feeling that I’m not insane for believing he exists.

“Girl you better not be prankin’ me,” Stella cautions, “ These ain’t some old crow feathers you found on the road or somethin’…”

I cut her off quickly, wanting her to believe me. “I swear they ain’t that. I found these in my room, one for each time he’s been there.”

Stella stares at me for a very uncomfortable minute and then asks, “He ain’t done nothing wrong to you has he girI?” For a second I’m not sure if she’s talking about the stepfather or my angel. Deciding it’s the latter she’s speaking of I answer her a little loudly.

“No! Of course not he protects me!”

“He protects you from what exactly?” Stella raises the feathers to her nose and breathes in deeply.

I don’t know why I find this funny but I take a bite of my food instead of laughing. She is the only person who can help me and I don’t want to make her mad. But I also can’t bring myself to tell her about the stepfather and my mother. I can’t understand why this is so I give a vague answer after swallowing another bite of food.

“Oh, you know, stuff…” Stella interrupts before I can spew out any more b.s. answers.

“These things smell like a flower, but not one I have ever smelled. Tell me more about this man.”

I swallow the bite I’ve taken quickly and lay the spook on the table before taking a long drink of the sweet tea Stella’s poured for me.

“He don’t want me to look at him, he tells me to close my eyes whenever he’s around. I peeked and saw his profile for a split second. He looks like a man but he has those huge black wings and there are black bands around his wrists. And I’m not scared of him at all but I think maybe I should be?”

I can’t help but to end my sentence as an answer as I look Stella up and down; she’s still holding my feathers and the urge to take them away from her is near impossible to ignore.

Stella sniffs the feathers again and, as if she’s read my mind, she hands them back to me. She smiles down at me and nods towards my nearly empty bowl.  
“I think I didn’t give you near enough to give me an honest opinion.”

I stare at the feathers as she ladles more food into my bowl. I take my time and savor every bite because I know that it’s most likely the only food I’ll get before my grandparents take me away. Silently I wonder if my angel will follow me to wherever or if he will vanish once I am away from danger.

For the next two hours I sit and listen to Stella tell me about her mother and sisters that passed away long before I was born and how each of them came back to her after their deaths to let her know they were okay. The stories terrify me a little but it’s a welcome excuse not to go home yet and soon my belly is full of food and tea; a feeling that isn’t familiar to me. When the sun starts to disappear from the sky I know I have to head back up the hill.

My feet are like boulders as I walk back up the alley to the house; dread sits on my shoulders like a mountain. The car is there and I know that the stepfather has some sort of plan about tonight since I will be gone and far away from his reach for an unknown amount of time. He won’t miss his chance and I know that tonight I will suffer the worst that he can do to me short of ending my life. I fleetingly think that maybe that wouldn’t be such a bad thing. Maybe if he did I could be like my guardian, the protector of the small and defenseless. 

I take a deep breath as I stand on the stoop. I try to journey inside my mind to the good place; the place where HE will always be waiting. It’s not working, terror has my heart pounding like a drum inside my chest. I open the door slowly and see Danny and my Mother on the living room floor naked; he’s pushing himself into her as he turns his head to stare at me standing in the doorway. I want to try and run back out but Danny has a pistol in his hand pointed right at me.

“Come on in, little baby,” he laughs menacingly, “We’re just getting started.” He grunts as his body heaves on top of hers and I feel bile rise in my throat. This isn’t the first time that the stepfather as orchestrated something like this; I’ve been made to watch many times. But this is the first time I feel in danger of being included.

I can see by the blank stare on my mother’s face that she is stoned beyond belief and lying limply beneath him as he does his business.

“Hi baby,” she utters almost in a whisper and now I think she’s more than just stoned. The needle and spoon aren’t lying far away and I can see the belt still around her upper arm.

“Get in and sit the fuck down, you could learn a thing or two.” The stepfather waves the gun again and motions for me to take a seat on the floor next to them. The smell of body odor from my mother and the stink of beer from the stepfather has my stomach ready to spill all that Stella had given me.

My eyes stare sightlessly at the two figures on the floor because mentally I am heading to that safe place. I don’t even fight as the stepfather pulls me closer to them. I am with HIM, he is holding my hand and in my mind’s eye I am gazing upon his face. I stare at his straight, proud nose, and the mouth that could only exist on an angel because it is so beautiful. The mouth stretches into a smile and I can’t help to smile back at him.

I have no reason to cry out as I wait for the stepfather to make good on his threat, my guardian is here. My nose fills with the heady, sweet fragrance of inky wings as I feel myself being lifted into strong arms; I am being carried away from the horrors of the stepfather. I feel hands like satin lay me down into my bed on my side and cover me with blankets all the way over my head.

“Don’t look,” HE whispers, his voice like a quiet symphony in my ears, “No matter what you might hear, don’t dare to look, my most beloved.”

I trust his voice and promise silently with a nod and all of my heart to obey his words. I don’t look, not even when the screaming starts or when HIS furious voice like the sound of thunder shakes our house from the inside.


End file.
